


horse racing and missionaries

by herasen



Series: trials of innocence [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: (mention) - Freeform, Abduction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daddy Kink, Dom Spencer Reid, Dom/sub, F/M, Kidnapping, Miscarriage, Past Child Abuse, Pet Names, Protective BAU Team (Criminal Minds), Protective Spencer Reid, Spencer Reid Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:21:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29893479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herasen/pseuds/herasen
Summary: it takes genevieve an hour to come to terms with the fact that she’s going to die at the hands of catherine adams.
Relationships: Penelope Garcia & Original Female Character(s), Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s), The BAU Team & Original Character(s)
Series: trials of innocence [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2197935
Kudos: 5





	horse racing and missionaries

**Author's Note:**

> ·˚ ༘ a note from the writer: welcome to the first published part of the grater universe of ‘trials of innocence’. this series won’t be published in chronological order, but they will all eventually be placed in a masterlist in the correct timeline order. sound complicated? i promise it won’t be. we’ll just be learning about genevieve and spencer’s relationship in a different way than we usually would. enjoy x

**UNKNOWN LOCATION**

**monday 17th june, 2016**

Genevieve blinks blearily, her head throbbing as she gradually regains consciousness. She sniffs and wrinkles her nose, turning her head away from whatever's being lightly brushed against her face. "Spence?" She murmurs, closing her eyes again to block out the harsh light in the room. "Stop it, Spence. M'sleeping." She attempts to reach up and bat him away from her face, only to frown when she realises that can't move her hands.

"Not anymore you're not," a distinctly female voice sings, high-pitched and fakely blithe. "Wakey wakey, princess. We have so much to talk about." 

Genevieve stiffens.

She knows that voice. She shouldn't, but she does.

Garcia was the one who'd let Genevieve clandestinely listen to the audiotape from the day of Cat Adams' arrest. She'd been so freaked out by the events, so scared of what Cat Adam's might be capable of, that she'd thought it necessary to tell Genevieve everything she and the bureau knew about the equivocal black widow. It was only fair, they'd decided after some deliberation, given the fact that Cat Adams clearly knew everything there was to know about Genevieve.

She forces her eyes open, recoiling away from the spotlight shining on her. The smell in the room is horrendous, like rotten flesh and mouldy chewing tobacco. She looks down and takes note of the bindings on her limbs and around her neck; rope around her neck, chains around her ankles, pink fluffy handcuffs around her wrists.

"Pretty, right?"

Genevieve looks up.

"I know, I know," Cat rolls her eyes, gesturing to the bindings. "It's overkill. You probably wouldn't be able to get free if all I did was tie you up with some silk ribbon and be done with it." She sneers.

Genevieve closes her eyes and chases away a rush of nausea before opening them again. 

Her trachea constricts when she inclines her head and attempts to swallow some saliva to soothe her throat. She stares at Cat, who straddles a chair on the other side of the room and wiggles her fingers in greeting. "I-" Genevieve coughs and whimpers at the pain it causes, taking a moment to recover before resuming. "I thought you were in prison."

"I was," Cat responds with a shrug. "Not anymore, though. Obviously." She narrows her eyes and looks Genevieve up and down. "You're cute." It's not a compliment.

"Thanks," She whispers anyway, after a lull. Her heart-races. "Why am I here?"

Cat tilts her head to the side and purses her lips. "Why do you think you're here?"

"I don't know," she admits, eyelids fluttering as she fights off impending unconsiousness.

"You do," Cat tuts. "Don't act dumb. It's not cute, princess. Ruins your whole, 'I'm an innocent little dove who can't open a tin can by myself', thing." She criticises.

The answer she wants to hear is obvious. "Spencer," She swallows. "I'm here because of Spencer."

"Three points to Hufflepuff," Cat sucks her teeth and grins. "You look thirsty. Do you want some water? I have some over here."

It feels like she's been unconscious for hours, so yes, she's thirsty. In fact, she can practically feel herself withering up due to dehydration, but she knows better than to accept water from a stranger, let alone one who might very well be planning to kill her. "I'm fine, thanks."

Cat considers her, "you're a terrible liar. And way too polite." She narrows her eyes and pushes off of the chair, strolling toward her. She glances at the ceiling and then at her watch. "We have some time to kill. Let's play a game."

"A game?" She's never been abducted by a psychotic serial killer before, but surely this isn't how these situations usually go? She furrows her brows. "You- you want to play a game?"

Cat nods. "Sure. Do you like games?"

"Um." She blinks. "I play monopoly sometimes. Chess, too. Not very good at that, though." She admits quietly.

Cat snorts sarcastically. "Do you really think I went through all the trouble of getting you here just to play a board-game? No." She shakes her head and pulls the chair closer before sitting down. "Genevieve, you and I are going to play twenty-three questions. We'll take turns. I'll go first." She declares without wasting a second. "How many times have you and Spencer had sex?"

Genevieve blinks. "What?" She gasps.

Cat rolls her eyes. "You just wasted your first question." She leans forward, close enough that Genevieve can feel her breath on the tip of her nose. "Did I forget to tell you the rules? My bad." She looks at her pointedly. "If you don't answer a question, I shoot you." She reveals the shotgun that Genevieve hadn't even noticed she was holding.

Instinctually, her eyes flicker downward.

Cat squints. "My turn again. Who shot you?"

Genevieve closes her eyes.

"Don't make me ask twice," Cat warns.

"My brother," She forces the words out of her mouth despite how much she wants to keep them inside. "My brother shot me."

"Why?" Cat demands to know.

Genevieve shakes her head joltingly. "It's my turn."

Cat chuckles. "Sure is, princess. Go ahead, then. Ask me anything."

"Whose basement is this?"

"Nobody you would know." Cat answers evasively.

Genevieve nods and looks at the ceiling blankly. It was obvious that she wasn't going to get any straight answers from Cat.

This wasn't a game. It was an interrogation in disguise.

Then, something in the top corner of the room catches her eye.

Faking a wave of nausea, she looks from one side of the room to the other until her gaze lands on the offending corner. It's hidden well in the darkness, but she can just make out the tiny red dot of light flashing steadily.

A camera.

She quickly shifts her gaze back to Cat, stomach cramping with fear and anxiety. "Your turn." 

Cat doesn't give anything away with her expression. "Why did your brother shoot you?"

"Because he wanted to." She replies.

Cat shakes her head. "No. Not good enough. Try again."

"Uncuff my hands." Genevieve bargains, "and I'll tell you everything."

"Yeah, I don't think so." Cat rolls her eyes. "Good job spotting the camera. I didn't think you'd be so attentive." She tilts her head. "You just lost all of your turns, by the way. Now answer my question or I'll shoot you. Your choice, dollface." 

"He didn't like the way I cooked his steak."

Cat raises her eyebrows. "He shot you because he didn't like the way you cooked a steak?"

Genevieve nods slowly. "Yes."

Her brother's a sore subject, it's obvious, and Cat eagerly capitalises on it, going as far as to lean forward in her seat like she's at a theatre watching a drama play out. "How old were you when it happened?"

"Eight."

The memory still haunts her to this day.

"You were cooking steak when you were eight?"

"My mother was asleep and he was hungry."

Cat obviously doesn't believe her, but she moves on anyway. "How old was he? Your brother."

"Sixteen,"

"Huh," Cat nods slowly. "Did it hurt?"

"A lot."

"Go to the hospital?"

"No. My mother took care of it."

Cat sighs boredly. "You've got more of a tragic backstory than I thought, princess."

Genevieve winces. "Can you- can you please stop calling me that?"

"Why?" Cat pouts. "Will it make Spencie mad?" She smirks. "What about kitten, can I call you that?" She asks, making a point to speak clearly enough for the camera to pick up. "Or what about," she leans in close and cups her hands around Genevieve's ear. "Little girl?" She whispers conspiratorially.

Genevieve remains completely still until Cat backs up. "You've been watching us."

It's not a question as much as it is a statement.

Cat widens her eyes innocently. "Of course I haven't," she smirks. "Not me. I've been far too busy for that. Breaking out of prison is extremely time-consuming, you know."

Genevieve stares at her. "Someone else? You've had someone else watching us?"

Cat smirks at her as she walks up and down the room, heels clicking against the concrete. "Let's get back to our game. We're running out of time."

Genevieve takes a steadying breath and prepares herself for the inevitable onslaught of overly personal questions.

"Why don't you have a job?" Cat asks, the first sign of genuine curiosity in her tone.

"I was fired when my boss found out I was dating an FBI agent." Genevieve says, eyes finding her hands. "So I decided to take some time off."

"Ugh." Cat groans loudly. "You're such a terrible liar. Why do you even try?" She points the gun at her. "Honest answer or I put a bullet in your head."

Genevieve flinches. "Okay!" She yells, and takes a deep breath. "Okay," she whispers. "I'll tell you, but please," she darts her eyes toward the camera and then back to Cat. "Please." She finishes, and Cat all but lights up with curiosity.

She strolls over and pulls a cell-phone out of her pocket. She unlocks it with a passcode and after a few minutes, she says, "there. Sound is disabled. Now tell me."

Genevieve fixes her gaze on her cuffed hands. "I had a miscarriage."

There's a pause before Cat speaks again. "Was it Spencer's baby?"

Genevieve looks at her sharply. "Yes."

"And he was there when it happened?"

Genevieve stays quiet for a second too long.

"He wasn't." Cat stares at her, delight shining on her face as she watches Genevieve's eyes water. "Where was he, Genie?" She asks with a mocking smirk, running the tip of her finger across the woman's cheek and catching a tear. "Working a case? Visiting mommy dearest?"

"A case." Genevieve says quietly. "Please don't make me talk about it anymore."

Cat rolls her eyes but moves away nonetheless. "Fine." She goes back on her phone. "Sound's back online. Hi, Penelope," she waves at the camera with a grin. "Say hello to your best friend, Genie."

Genevieve looks in the vague direction of the camera, shifting against the binds in earnest. "Penny, listen to me. I'm fine. I'm not hurt." Not yet, her brain taunts. "Girl's night is at my place next week. Be there or be square. Pass on the message." She smiles weakly before looking away and letting her head fall.

Cat pouts. "Don't I get an invite?"

"You don't seem like the girls night type," Genevieve says, being as honest as she can. She's like a human lie detector, Garcia had told her. She was starting to realise that she hadn't been exaggerating.

"Yeah, I'd rather slit my own wrists. No offence," Cat sniffs before fixing her gaze on Genevieve again. "Next question. Hope you're keeping count. What do you call Spencer when you're in bed?"

Genevieve doesn't blink. "You already know that."

"You're no fun," Cat huffs. "What does he even see in you?"

"Is that an actual question?" Genevieve asks.

"No." Cat shakes her head after a moment of deliberation. "Was your brother ever arrested for what he did to you?"

"No. My father was the chief of police."

Cat plays with the gun. "Was he a good father?"

"No." Genevieve looks at her. "That's one thing we have in common, I suppose."

Cat's entire demeanour darkens. "Spencie spilled the beans, did he? Funny. I bet he didn't tell you what he did to me; how he lied about finding my father."

Genevieve shakes her head. "No. He- we don't talk about cases at home." She says, sticking to the truth. "You just- you sounded angry when you asked about my father."

There's a lapse of silence.

"When did it happen?" Cat asks, suddenly.

Genevieve frowns. "When did what happen?"

Cat glances down at her stomach.

Genevieve shakes her head. "I-"

She freezes when the barrel of the gun is pressed against her forehead. Her life doesn't flash before her eyes like they say it does in the movies, but she does feel her entire nervous system light up.

"January thirteenth." She whispers through gritted teeth.

"This year?" Cat raises her eyebrows in interest. Genevieve nods stiffly. Cat's eyes widen with twisted glee. "Oh my god. He was with me. We were having dinner together." She practically glows at the realisation. "Everyone who cares about you was focused entirely on me when you needed them the most." She smirks.

"No more." Genevieve looks away and whispers. "Please."

"You're really not in the position to be making demands." Cat points out.

"I'm not making a demand!" Genevieve cries. "I'm begging you. No more. Please."

"I suppose you do have a lot of practice in that arena," Cat smirks, winking at her suggestively before pulling away the gun and standing up. She strolls back to her chair and straddles it again.

"You have three more questions." Genevieve sniffs, trying not to show an outward reaction at her taunting. She'd clearly had someone close enough to them to know some legitimately intimate details. Her skin crawls at the thought.

Cat looks vaguely impressed. "You've actually kept count?"

"Yes." Genevieve looks her in the eye. "Two more."

Cat smirks slowly. "You've got more bite than I thought you would." She looks down at her watch and then at Genevieve. "Do you love your daddy?"

"Yes." Genevieve answers without a second of hesitation.

Cat smirks. "And your daddy.. He isn't the chief of police, is he?"

Genevieve shakes her head slowly. "No."

Her father is the chief of police.

Her daddy is not.

She gulps when Cat strolls to the side of the room that sits in complete darkness.

The game's over. This is it. This is the moment that the last hour has been leading up to. She glances at the camera and musters up a smile, hopefully strong enough to reassure Garcia that she's okay, despite being the furthest thing from it.

She has no way of knowing whether anyone picked up on her message or not. She can only pray that Cat turns off the camera before she kills her.

**QUANTICO, VIRGINIA.**

**monday 17th june, 2016**

"Good morning, my beautiful friends," Garcia preens as she strolls through the bullpen, a beaming smile on her face. "I bring doughnuts!" She announces, placing the box down on JJ's desk with a dramatic flourish.

"Oh, thank god. I didn't have time for breakfast this morning and I'm starving," JJ moans in delight, opening up the box and picking up her favourite. "Thank you, Pen." She gushes around a mouthful of sugary goodness.

"You're so welcome," Garcia looks around. "Where is everyone? Usually all I have to do is say the word 'doughnuts' and I'm surrounded." She frowns.

JJ shrugs. "I've only been here for five minutes. They're probably in the break room." She says.

Garcia nods. "Right. I'll just leave these here until they get back." She frets, looking around again. It was unnerving when things didn't pan out like usual. She perches on the corner of Spencer's desk. "How was your weekend? Did the boys keep you busy?"

"Busy is putting it lightly." JJ laughs. "Wouldn't change it for the world though," she shrugs. "How was girls night? I'm so sorry I couldn't make it. It's just been so hectic, what with Will working full-time and everything." She breathes. 

Garcia rolls her eyes with a playful smile. "Don't be sorry. We made sure to have fun on your behalf." 

"Yes." JJ smirks. "I got the pictures."

"And what magical pictures they were." Garcia grins. "We missed you, of course, but we had a great time."

"How's Gen doing?" JJ asks, leaning forward and resting her hand under her chin. "I haven't heard from her in a few days."

Garcia smiles. "She's doing great. Handled the red-wine hangover like a pro." She grimaces. "Although, I still don't understand the morning jog. I can get behind the green juice, but the exercise is just a step too far."

JJ nods her head slowly. "She's a crazy woman. Hangovers call for fried food and movies in bed."

"Agreed," Garcia nods solemnly.

They sit and eat their doughnuts in silence, making the most of the lull before the work day officially starts.

A loud crash from Rossi's office makes them both jerk up. They share a concerned frown before getting up and striding toward the source of the commotion.

"What's going on?" JJ asks, a frown on her face as she looks around Rossi's office. Now that she and Garcia are there, the entire team is present. She looks at Spencer, who's glowering at the far wall. "Spence?"

Rossi gets up and closes his office door. "She got out." He informs them.

Garcia looks around fretfully. "Who? Who got out?"

Emily rests her hand on her shoulder gently. "Two days ago, Cat Adams escaped police custody during a routine transfer."

Garcia takes a sharp breath. "Cat Adams? As in.. as in a member of the four? The one we arrested in January?"

Rossi nods solemnly. "That's right."

"Oh no," Garcia mutters, looking sharply at Spencer. "Oh no."

"Right now, she's underground, but this was an intricate operation. Given her history with this team, finding her has become top priority." Emily says. "Right now, she's two steps ahead of us, which is exactly where she wants to be." She addresses the room. "We need to get into her head before she even has a chance to get into ours."

JJ raises her eyebrows. "How do we know she's not planning on staying underground? She could be in Mexico by now for all we know." She points out.

Emily looks at Spencer and purses her lips. "This morning, Reid found a note from Cat Adams on his desk."

Garcia whips her head toward the unit chief with wide eyes. "On his desk?" She gasps. "How the hell did she-"

"We're working under the assumption that a janitor was either bribed or blackmailed, but we're working on getting access to the security tapes to be sure." Emily reports.

"What did it say?" JJ asks, looking at Spencer worriedly.

He swallows roughly, jaw tense as he recites the phrase that'd been written on the paper. "Horse racing and missionaries."

Tara frowns. "Does anyone know what that means?"

"I do. It's from a quote," Spencer says. "Well, actually, it's from a humorist version of a quote. "A difference in opinion is what makes horse racing and missionaries."" He says.

"What was the original?" Emily asks, eyebrows furrowed.

"The original was written by Mark Twain in The Tragedy of Pudd'nhead Wilson. "It were not best that we should all think alike; it is difference of opinion that makes horse-races."" He frowns. "She's obviously trying to tell us something, but I don't know what."

"I think I studied that book in school." Rossi frowns. "And that was lifetimes ago."

Spencer scowls, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his thigh. "I don't understand why that's the quote she'd choose. It doesn't make any sense."

"We'll work it out, Spence." JJ assures him gently. "Has anyone taken the note in for analysis yet?"

"It's been sent for fingerprints, but I doubt we'll pull any." Emily sighs. "Alright, we need to start at the beginning if we have any hope of catching up with her. Garcia, I need you to find out who she was associating with in prison. Cellmates, guards. Anyone who could've been in close contact with her." She instructs.

Garcia nods her assent and turns on her heel, rushing to her den as quickly as possible. Her heart pounds in her chest and she looks over her shoulder one too many times before ducking into her office, locking the door, and sinking against it with a sigh of relief.

She strolls over to her desk and turns on her monitors, adjusting her glasses as they light up. She furrows her brows at the notification that lights up the right-hand corner of the screen.

_1 new phone message_

Immediately on edge, she glances at the securely locked door before turning back and clicking on it. The message opens and she sits there in shock, staring at it with a gaping jaw. 

Jumping out of her chair, she scrambles out of her office and through the building, eyes wide and fear continuously building. She bursts into Rossi's office and the team regard her with surprise.

"She has your address!" She cries, eyes wide with unabridged terror as she stares at Spencer. "She has your address. She knows where you live." She opens her mouth to continue before the obvious dawns on her. She gasps and her eyes immediately flood with tears. "Oh!” 

Spencer, having quickly come to the same conclusion, clenches his jaw and pulls his mobile out of his pocket. He puts it to his ear and listens to the dial tone ring out.

He shuts his eyes and closes his fist around the phone.

"She might just be busy," Emily tries. "Garcia, track her mobile. It rung out, which means it's turned on and has service. We can't assume the worst."

"Emily," Garcia whispers. "She always answers her phone. Always. You know that."

"Even i know that." Rossi says, face growing dark.

Emily watches Spencer open up an app. "What's that?" She steps closer. "You track her?" She raises her eyebrows.

"Only when she wants me to," he grits his teeth. "It's active. If she's wearing the necklace, which she should be, she's still at the apartment."

Emily nods. "Well then, we need to get to her before Cat does."

Spencer watches in real time as the tracker gets disconnected. "Too late." He closes his eyes and swallows roughly. "She's got her."

Garcia breathes heavily, her panic almost blinding. "I don't understand! She has no history with Genevieve at all! Why would she take her?"

"She doesn't have history with Genevieve, but she does with Reid. If she can't get to him, Gen is the closest thing." Emily takes a deep breath. "Where do we start?"

"Get a SWAT team to Spencer's apartment. There's a small chance that they're still there. Even if they’re not, we can have them sweep the place for evidence." Rossi instructs.

Spencer stares at his phone as his team jumps into action, his heart aching as he considers the possibilities ahead. He takes a deep breath and shoves his mobile into his pocket before following on Emily’s heels. 

Two hours later, the broadcast starts.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @reidwitch for regular updates and more insight into the ‘trials of innocence’ universe!


End file.
